


Diamond Eyes

by CelticKnot



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s04e10 Midnight, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 09:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18825601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticKnot/pseuds/CelticKnot
Summary: The Doctor reflects on the human condition, and is crushed by what he has seen. Set during "Midnight."





	Diamond Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this, and a number of other Doctor Who one-shots, back in 2011. I'm porting some of them over from FFN.

_I don't think they know_  
_That's my heart exposed_  
_From the fearing of the endless lies…  
_ _—Shinedown, "Trade Yourself In"_

Amid the blinding Xtonic sunlight, the creature possessing my mind and the hands holding my body released me simultaneously. I collapsed to the deck, gasping for air, my hearts pounding as though they would explode. For just an instant, I'd felt the icy blaze, the searing cold, as the physical form the creature had inhabited was vaporized by the intense radiation.

Bad way to go, radiation poisoning. Take it from experience.

But at the time, only one thought echoed in my mind. "It's gone," I whispered, over and over. "It's gone, it's gone, it's gone." With great effort, I rolled over onto my back and shut my eyes, concentrating on catching my breath.

The creature, whatever it was, had kept me paralyzed, and as it had said with Sky's voice, it had indeed been hard to breathe. But I labored to draw breath even now—the crushing weight of disappointment smothered me as though the whole of the Mountain of Solitude sat on my chest.

I was free of the creature, yet still I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak.

Oh, after a moment I summoned the strength to drag myself to a row of seats and huddle against it, but I couldn't get up off the floor. I just sat there, hugging my knees as if I could contain the horror that ate at me from the inside out.

Valerie Cane broke the stunned silence. "I said it was her."

Hypocrite. That shameless, self-serving lie should have infuriated me. I should have turned the wrath of the Oncoming Storm upon her, should have towered over her and shouted and raged and threatened until she cowered before me. Until she looked into herself and saw how shallow was her soul, and wept for the despair of it.

But I didn't have the heart left to get angry. I was empty. Desolate. All I could do was stare at her.

There was something in my eyes, though, that got through to her. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. But she nevertheless shrank away from me and said no more.

A brittle silence descended.

Was this what humans really were? I'd challenged them earlier, before the being possessing Sky had stolen my voice. I had asked them if all they amounted to was murder. _Or are you better than that?_ I had demanded. But the question had been completely rhetorical. I thought I knew all about humans. I was fascinated by them. I loved them. They had so much potential, so much enduring spirit. So much light and hope and promise. I had believed that, despite the mistakes all people make, human beings were good people at heart. They had courage and compassion and empathy, and a wisdom that far surpassed their short lifespan.

But then, the only humans I ever spent a great deal of time with were my companions, and as I'd often boasted, I only took the best. The brightest, the bravest. Perhaps my perception of humanity was a little skewed.

Because this tiny sampling of the human race had turned out to be uniformly cowardly and dangerous. Just when I thought my questions had stopped them in their tracks, just when a glimmer of light began to break through, they had dashed my hopes to pieces. One by one, they declared their intent to throw poor Sky out into the deadly sunlight—and me too, if I stood in their way. Even Dee Dee, the last voice of sanity, was ready to kill us. They were prepared to commit murder rather than face something that frightened them. It seemed they willfully refused to listen to reason, seeking a scapegoat instead of a solution. The easy way out—if you don't understand it, kill it.

I shuddered to think about what would have happened if they'd found out for certain that I really am an alien.

The dark side of humanity, that's what I'd just witnessed. Xenophobia, cowardice, the mob mentality. It had been a witch hunt, conclusions formed and the evidence twisted to suit them.

And then Val's hideous, bald-faced lie.

I think that's what really drove it home for me. That she could just pretend she'd been on "my side" all along, when in reality she—and all the rest of them—should have been begging me for forgiveness. The pure, unadulterated selfishness absolutely took my breath away. Despair threatened to stop my hearts.

This couldn't be the truth of the human race, it couldn't. I thought desperately of Rose, of Donna, of Martha. Of Grace and Jo and Sarah Jane. The Brigadier. Jamie and Zoe, Ian and Barbara. None of them would make the history books, but they were shining examples of the best humanity had to offer.

But then I remembered Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister. Everyone knew who she was. She had ordered the destruction, the murder, of a shipful of people who were retreating in defeat. Because they frightened her.

I remembered Henry Van Statten, torturing his captive "Metaltron." Never mind that it was a Dalek, it still made me sick.

And the history of Earth is full of monsters like that. For the first time, I could truly see the people who could give rise to Hitler and Stalin and Castro, to Pol Pot and Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden. Cowards who destroyed what they didn't understand. Because they feared it.

No other species in the Universe reacted so violently to fear.

And to think I had pledged to defend their world. Maybe the Universe would be better off if I just let the next invading species wipe them out.

No, I could never do that.

And so I sat in silence, unable to make eye contact with the people who'd tried so hard to kill me. I sat in silence and mourned my shattered faith.

Eventually, the speakers crackled to life. " _Crusader 50,_ repeat, _Crusader 50_ , rescue vehicle coming alongside in three minutes. Door seals set to automatic. Prepare for boarding. Repeat, prepare for boarding."

Startled out of my reverie, I looked up at the other passengers. One last parting shot. "The hostess," I said quietly. "What was her name?"

Nobody knew, of course. She had died for them, had been the beacon of goodness and courage that threw their monstrosity into such stark relief, and they didn't even know her name. I opened my mouth to berate them—

—and shut it again.

Because I didn't know, either.


End file.
